And I’d feel him between my legs before my next, surprised breath.
My chest constricts with longing and once the curtain has drawn, I leave. Marching through the hall, I yank out the bird-decorations in my hair, leaving a trail of dark feathers behind before I start running. The hallway’s empty, the path clear and I burst into my dressing room before slamming the door behind.
I take a deep inhale, then another but the rest comes out short and choppy. Shaking my head, I try to appreciate what a great night this was but all I can think about is Nero.
I’ve seen the place where he grew up: A colorful row house, upper middle class-ish. I’ve been thinking about buying it, along with his apartment where he kept all those cut-out’s of me, the notes where he wrote about me with a fixed fever.
I made a scrapbook out of them and sometimes I look through it when I can’t sleep. It helps a little but not nearly enough and I start humming Nero’s music to myself. I’ve listened to it so many times, I know it by heart. He mixes so many different styles, a true pioneer in his field. Sitting down at my vanity, I begin removing my makeup.
Some of the other dancers are going out to celebrate but not me. Things have changed so much. The knockers that complained about my time being over, now pour their love out. It’s more because of the media sensation, rather than anything else. They wrote about me in the newspaper, about the pretty dancer that was taken hostage by a mean, horrible man.
The tickets skyrocketed after that.
Nero once told me he’d lick my wounds, and he licked them alright. I have everything I wanted.
Except the one thing, I would give up everything else for.
I meet my own eyes in the mirror, grabbing a brush and break the glass until it cracks and I look as shattered as I feel. Cupping my eyes with my hands, I burst into tears. They burn my retinas, yank my heart out but I twitch when I hear someone humming the music I was just humming.
I look up and nearly scream when I see Nero’s ghost behind me. There’s a burn mark on his arm, but his eyes are the same, his smile and I desperately want him to be here in the flesh. He looms over me and I tremble when I feel the warmth of his body, then tremble even more when he puts his hands on my shoulders.
He’s real...
“Why would you do this to yourself?” he murmurs, looking at the fragmented mirror with disapproval. “When you have such a beautiful face.”
I tremble, afraid to look away in case he disappears. “You’re alive.” Tears stream down my cheeks and I gasp when he lifts me out of the chair, puts me down on the vanity and pulls me to him. He even smells the same, feels the same and I clutch him to me until there’s not an inch of air between us. “H...how, I thought you died.”
“Rose from the dead then followed the trail of black feathers you left behind and I’m here, my world. I’m really here.”
My eyes tear up once more.
Wiping my cheeks, I murmur, “Where’s Serge?” Ever since the kidnapping, he’s been dramatically sharp-eyed but Nero’s lips curve.
“Tied up in a closet with a pink gag in his mouth.”
A laughter threatens to bubble up and I cup his face, before pulling him down to my mouth. His tongue parts my lips, his hand sliding between my thighs and he groans like an animal being released from its painful trap. His other hand is on my back, holding me upright and he trails kisses down my throat.
“Missed you so fucking much,” he says, before murmuring, “Will you come away with me?”
He wants me to leave the ballet. It’s not safe for him to be seen in public anymore and I nod, willing to follow him anywhere. “Yes,” I pant, “I’ll go wherever you want.”
Moaning, he groans that it’s exactly what he wanted to hear. I’m going to have a whole life with him, a star bright future and bliss erupts in me. I shiver, rasping against his lips. “You still want me this much, even though I’m not your Dark Swan?”
Nero pulls away, the expression in his eyes delirious...obscure and he flicks my lower lips with his thumb, whispering, “But you are.”
The End